5 comments:

I have an aunt who collects Depression Glass. Actually, she collects just about everything. Having downsized living space twice in two years, I've had to learn to let go of most of my collections - savoring that which pleases me most.

I like the poem because it reads, to me, as a beautiful long metaphor for depression, the illness. Depression is hard. Hard to live with, to recover from (you truly only go into remission if you're bipolar), hard to understand. I appreciate people who can describe it with a clear eye: focused and without pity.